


kitten teeth

by archaeologies



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: M/M, also joeri kisses yugo but thats pretty miuch it, and dissociation, and like drdp i think?, and the kissing is consensual, anyway this isnt violent but theres some like, clearly i am good at writing arcv fic that only involves this three characters, descriptions of unreality, im scared of parts of this being read as nsfw or as noncon, like derealisation, uh its sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 06:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11572053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archaeologies/pseuds/archaeologies
Summary: somewhere primal and animalistic but also agonisingly human and agonised by being human





	kitten teeth

**Author's Note:**

> this was meant to be like a warmup but it ended up being kind of hell and like . just nonsense and maybe kind of experimental i'#,m sorry. anyway pawnship good 
> 
> also there's stuff here that's like . it's zarc stuff but i'm worried about it being read as nsfw . it's not its just zarc . zarc's straight chillin.

The weirdest thing isn’t his face, and it isn’t that it’s exactly the same as Hugo’s. It’s his teeth. It’s the way Hugo’s tongue itches and tingles at its tip with the ghosts of cuts and scars and burns that never existed, and how he has to push it against the roof of his mouth when the other boy’s darts out, reptilian, and pulls his lips back into a grin as it slithers home. Hugo’s face has never looked like that, never strained like that, taut, over his cheekbones in some horrific form of glee - Hugo knows that for sure, because he got told he had a big mouth when he was seven and works hard to keep all of his smiles small and toothless (he doesn’t manage it), even though he’s old enough now to know having a big mouth just means he doesn’t ever shut up and is not actually a commentary on this size of his mouth. 

Hugo used to be certain he had fangs. He would lie in bed, running his tongue over shards of bone until his tastebuds tore and his mouth filled with blood, and then he would keep biting down, embedding the jagged ivory into it. Yet no matter how much he bled, how much he chewed, how much he bit, his reflection showed flat teeth. Normal teeth. He’d open his mouth as wide as he could and see only raw gums and white, inflamed lacerations where he had set waxy, boney blades into bite marks. So the weird thing about this boy isn’t that they’re near identical. It isn’t the familiar, aching pain that claws from somewhere deep inside Hugo’s chest, somewhere more special than his heart, somewhere more important than his heart, somewhere primal and animalistic but also agonisingly human and agonised by being human, and it isn’t the way that twinges in flares that are both hollow and empty and full and frothing and overflowing until some kind of longing and recognition spills from the spaces between his ribs and drips down to his stomach in gnawing, freezing terror that set his shoulders into shivers. 

The weirdest thing is seeing his own mouth curl upwards, and watching very visible, very pointed teeth, rest on plump, unchapped lips, because Hugo has spent so long teaching himself that no matter how confident he is, or how deeply he knows, that he has sharp fangs resting in his jaw, his teeth are blunt. Nothing else he’s feeling, nothing else he’s realising, compares to this jolt, this jarring disposition between what he has always felt and known but never seen, never proven, and his hand, curled into an angry fist, loosens with the shock. 

The longer he looks at this boy, the less his hand feels like his own - the less any of him feels like it’s his own. If it wasn’t for the teeth, for the echo of something that had been his core for years, for something he remembers from his childhood, Hugo feels like he might have lost everything that he is. 

Then he thinks of Rin, and the parts of him that are fading - the parts of him that are mist, that are frayed at the edges and tattered and unraveling - those parts stitch themselves back together, knitting ligaments and muscles to bone and keeping him rooted to the ground. He’s tugging on her sleeve and pointing to his mouth and begging her, begging her, to look at his teeth look how sharp they are how strong they are how strong he is!! Rin Rin Rin Rin, please! Look how strong he is! 

And the boy licks his lips. 

Hugo gulps. 

When Joeri kisses him, he loses himself again. Not in a romantic way. Not the way he thinks kissing is meant to make someone lose themself. Hugo’s heart, the thing deeper, more important, than his heart, drops and strains and slices itself through his ribs. His skin thrums and vibrates until it’s shaking itself off of his frame, until he can pull it off and unearth whatever this underlying longing, this need, this necessity, this horribly human, horribly inhuman, part of him that knows this boy with his face is, until some part of him that’s dark and glowing can bleed itself under Joeri’s skin, can find that place that’s more special, that’s more important, that’s beating louder and harder and more forcefully than his heart, and sew those parts together - sew their matching dark, glowing parts together. Hugo grows and shrinks and then feels those teeth, those delicately pointed teeth, those teeth that Hugo always knew he should have, that Hugo feels like he remembers having, and he’s back and he exists and he’s Hugo and Rin is sighing and shaking her head because she doesn’t want to look inside of his nasty, dirty mouth. It’s gross. 

“Please,” he begs, “please please please! Rin, it’s so cool! Rin it’s cool! I’m like a dragon! I’m strong!” - and he pushes the boy away and clamps his mouth shut and tries to remind himself who he is and why he’s here and that he needs to not just remember Rin but also find her. 

He yells and clenches his fist and the other boy just smiles and that smile just grows like he’s taffy like he’s still coming undone in the way Hugo was like someone is clawing at his cheeks and pulling pulling pulling - and Rin punches his shoulder a little, rolls her eyes and begrudgingly says, “Okay. Okay, okay, I’ll look, I’ll look and see how strong you are. And then you can stop asking me.” 

Hugo nods and opens his mouth as wide as he can as large as he can (and he’s been told it’s big so he knows Rin will be able to see all of his teeth and how sharp they are), and closes his hands with excitement. He’s trembling a little. 

(and rin’s gone)

“They’re just teeth,” she frowns, and she pops a finger into her mouth, tugging it open. “See?” she tries to ask, but it’s muffled by her fingers and by the way she’s holding her cheek. “Same as mine. No fangs.” 

(and joeri’s gone) 

“Guess you’re not really a strong, cool dragon,” she teases, ruffling his hair. 

“No, no, I am! I am!” Hugo promises, even though his teeth are square and blunt and soft and don’t rip and tear the way he feels like they should.

(and clear wing is glowing) 

(and hugo is alone)


End file.
